#bev looks like he’s sneaking up on someone to prank them

[cursed-elo-images]

Book cover book cover book cover

[toziers]

alright but... reddie + a kissing booth

richie tozier is running a kissing booth.

eddie knows because it’s plastered all over the walls on hundreds of crudely cut pink pieces of paper: little posters of richie’s grinning face and the words RICHIE TOZIER KISSING BOOTH, $1, 3PM-4PM printed in bold block letters. (‘for charity’ was hastily scribbled on some of them, like richie had forgotten to mention it initially and scribbled like a madman to get it on at least most of the pink slips.) some of the kids walking by in the hallway only give them a cursory glance, a few giggles, a whisper to their friend. most of them ignored it, used to richie tozier’s obnoxious public stunts and pranks.

eddie doesn’t do any of those things. instead, he rips off one of the stupid little signs, nearly crumpling richie’s beaming smile in one hand, before storming off to find beverly.

“what is THIS?” he demands, waving the sheet of paper in front of bev’s face, and she has the audacity to smirk at him.

“looks like a kissing booth. you going?”

“no! first of all, gross, and second of all, ew.”

bev snatches the paper from his grasp. “but it’s for charity, eddie!” she points to the small print — the bit eddie hadn’t seen before. “and it’s two for the price of one. what a steal.”

eddie scowls. he’d rather pay someone a dollar to shove dirt directly into his mouth than kiss richie tozier twice. sure, they were a lot more civil now than when they’d first met — bev kept dropping the word friends which made eddie’s stomach turn like the time he’d eaten too many rocket pops. eddie was not friends with richie: yes, they hung out with the same people, and yes, sometimes eddie forgot to argue when richie pulled him close during movie nights and called him eds. but that did not make them friends. no matter how sly the looks bev and stan exchanged were.

eddie and richie were not friends, and he was not showing up to that kissing booth.

richie had built a literal booth. actually, eddie had a sneaking suspicion that ben had built the booth, as the craftsmanship was impeccable and richie couldn’t even build a stable sandcastle. but it was there, wooden planks and nails standing outside the baseball field, “kissing booth” painted in even red letters across the top.

and that wasn’t even the worse part: the worst part was the line of ten, twenty, god, forty people snaking around the fence and it wasn’t even five minutes past 3pm yet. the fact that more than just a couple of greasy nobodies had shown up to swap spit with richie was possibly the worst thing that had ever happened in the history of ever.

eddie thought he might throw up.

“is that an eddie spaghetti i see? come to check out heartthrob richie tozier’s charity kissing booth?” richie’s smile is blinding and it only gets wider as eddie approaches, the poster still tucked in the palm of his hand.

tucked beneath the poster was a folded up dollar bill that mike had surreptitiously slid into his hand on the way down the hill, but eddie was trying not to think about that.

“how the fuck did you get this germ terminal approved by the principal?” eddie steps directly in front of a bouncing blond girl, ignoring the fact that it looks like he just cut the entire line. he also ignores the annoyed noise she makes, and the feeling of satisfaction that settles somewhere inside him because of it.

richie just smiles like he always does when he’s looking at eddie. “i didn’t.” which isn’t surprising at all, considering richie had a penchant for doing stupid things right under principal gray’s nose and (usually) managing to get away with it unscathed. he was a troublemaker, and obnoxious, and dramatic, but at least he was smart about it. “i’m hoping he doesn’t notice. i’ve got a lot of customers who’d be very angry if the booth had to be shut down prematurely.” richie’s eyebrow quirks. “your mom’s supposed to be dropping by later.”

eddie ignores him. it’s habitual. “doesn’t notice? you put up, like, 80 billion of these stupid posters,” he points out, slamming the pink sign onto the wooden counter. “and nice going, you know, wasting hundreds of trees like that, like our planet isn’t dying every day and we’re all on the way to total annihilation by overheating—” but richie’s not listening (which eddie isn’t used to, because normally richie’s hanging on to every word that comes out of eddie’s mouth with soft eyes, no matter how feral and vile they were). richie’s looking down at the poster; or rather, the dollar that eddie had inadvertently laid down alongside it.

“well well well —“

“that’s not—“

“a paying customer and everything. oh eddie, i’m swooning.” and eddie should be throwing out an insult, or yanking the money back, or letting the earth swallow him whole but instead he’s looking at richie. and richie is looking at him. richie is looking at him the same way he always does, like eddie hung the moon and strung the stars, like he’s not some too-loud hypochondriac loser; like he’s not just eddie kaspbrak.

“PISS OR GET OFF THE POT,” comes a shout from the line — a shout that sounds suspiciously like beverly marsh’s voice. eddie’s still frozen in place, and he knows if he had a mirror he’d be flushed from ear to ear.

“whaddya’ say, eds?” richie pushes forward the little plastic donation bin. “for charity?”

it only takes a fraction of a second to decide any diseases richie tozier carried were worth it, so fucking worth it, and eddie’s grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and kissing him with everything he had inside him. he kissed him like he’d been waiting for this for weeks, for months, for years, because he had. and richie kissed him back, because he’s been waiting, too.

eventually there was a whoop from behind them, and cheers, and laughter, and eddie pulled away wide-eyed and breathless because richie had stolen all the air from his lungs. the only consolation was that richie looked just as dazed as eddie felt.

“are you done?” came a voice from behind them — the blonde girl — and before eddie can weigh the pros and cons of giving her a nice little punch to the throat, richie interrupts.

“yes, actually,” he says brightly, and carefully sets a ‘closed’ sign on the counter before calling to the rest of the crowd. “richie tozier’s kissing booth is officially bankrupt. everybody go home!” there’s some disappointed groans and eddie would kill to see the look on that blonde’s face but he’s too busy watching richie. he always is.

“how many people did you kiss?” eddie asks. he knows the answer. richie shakes the empty bin.

“just you, spaghetti.” eddie’s heart gives a traitorous thump: he’s not sure he’ll ever get used to how fucking fond richie sounded. eddie shoved him weakly, trying to keep all his smiles and heart-eyes at bay.

it’s not working.

they’re still just standing there, looking like dumb, lovesick kids, when richie gets this mischievous glint in his eye.

“you know,” he starts, and eddie hadn’t even noticed one of his big, stupid hands was curling around the side of his neck like it was made to fit there. “it was a two-for-one special. you’ve still got —“

kissing richie is just as incredible the second time, maybe even better. eddie thinks he could absolutely get used to shutting richie up like this.

—

“i can’t believe you lied about donating to charity to get me to kiss you.”

“oh no, the charity was real,” richie says seriously. eddie raises an eyebrow. “it’s the ‘get richie tozier laid fund.’ 100% of proceeds go to ravishing you like the dreamboat you are, eds.”

“give me my fucking dollar back.”

[andaleduardo]

How to Break Your Heart and Make Sure It Stays Broken

Read the 1st chapter on ao3

Summary:  In which 15-year-old Richie confesses his feelings for Eddie on New Year’s Eve and they don’t talk about it for the next 4 years.

31st December 2010, Friday

 “Would you put that thing down for one second?”

Richie looks up from the phone screen to his mother’s eyes. “Mom, this is the future. Do you want me to put the future down?”

“I want you to get off that sofa and help us serve the champagne.”

“Don’t make us regret giving you the future, Richie.” His father added as he entered the living room with a bottle of champagne on one hand and one of sparkling apple juice in the other.

“Fine.” He pockets the phone as he gets up to clean up the dinner plates. “But I gotta text the losers at midnight, we have a group chat on Facebook now-”

“Yes, son, we know. That’s all you’ve been talking about lately.” Wentworth interrupts while fumbling with the cork on the sparkling juice bottle.

“One day I’ll figure out why adults hate technology!” Richie shouts as he enters the kitchen. He places the plates on the sink and grabs three champagne glasses from the special collection his mom owns before going back to the living room. These things look like they’ll break if you so much as breathe in their direction.

“We don’t hate technology.” Maggie complains as she tries to rub away a stain in the tablecloth. “You kids just love it too much.”

That makes Richie laugh. “You don’t even let dad teach you how to use his comput-

The juice bottle’s cork comes off with a loud POP! that startles Richie and sends one of the glasses tumbling down onto the carpeted floor. It shatters into a million pieces despite the soft surface.

“Richie!” His mom cries out loud.

“I’m sorry!” Quickly, he places down the two survivor glasses. He can hear his dad trying not to laugh.

“Your grandma gifted these to us after we got married…” She laments as she looks at the sparkling shards at their feet.

“I’ll clean this up, you two be careful not to step on it.” Went adds before going to get the vacuum cleaner from the bottom of the pantry.

“I am sorry.”

With a sigh, Maggie hugs him sideways. “It’s okay, I guess we’ll never have 10 people over at the same time.”

“Yeah, we probably won’t.”

 Once the carpet is clean, the champagne and false champagne are served and there’s only 5 minutes left till midnight, Richie takes his phone out and opens Eddie’s contact. He stares at the text he wrote probably 4 hours ago and reads it over and over again just to really make sure there’s no mistakes.

The thing is, tonight, Richie is going to fuck up his entire life. Or, at least that’s what it feels like.

You see, Eddie was the last of the group to get a phone. He got it on Christmas as a gift from his uncle, and needless to say Sonia didn’t like the idea. She only gave it to him one or two days ago after she figured out how to make it as “safe” as possible for his son. That means Eddie has exactly 3 numbers on his contact list. The number to his house, the number to Bill’s house, and Bill’s number. Because, apparently, that’s the only friend of Eddie’s Sonia trusts.

Stan’s Jewish, Mike is home-schooled (and black, although Sonia never admits that’s the real reason she doesn’t like the boy), Ben moved into town not so long ago, Bev is a girl, and Richie is Richie.

Bill’s family goes to church every Sunday and they’ve known each other ever since both boys were little. Hence why Eddie’s contact list is sadder than the life of their math teacher.

But Richie is weirdly thankful for this because that means Eddie doesn’t have his number. However, Bill texted them Eddie’s contact yesterday, saying they probably shouldn’t send him anything before school starts because Sonia will most likely check his phone.

Well, Sonia can go to hell because Richie is about to do something very stupid.

He’s a true romantic at heart, alright? Plus, he’s been in love with Eddie since he was twelve (or at least he realized it when he was twelve) and this secret is starting to claw up at his insides as if he had swallowed a dysfunctional cat.

In other words, it’s driving him crazy and he has to do something about it.

Now, he’s not mental. He’s not going to confess his feelings or anything. Right, as if. He’s simply going to become a secret admirer or something cheesy like that.

Yesterday, he sneaked into his dad’s computer while both his parents were taking an afternoon nap and searched for “romantic quotes” on Google. He typed down the one he liked the most, deleted the history, and then tried to convince himself this wasn’t the worst plan of his entire life.

It seemed like a very clever plan the closer to midnight it got.

“Alright, my loves.” Maggie gives everyone their respective glass. The non-alcoholic, sad-looking one for Richie, and the fun-looking ones for the adults. Bullshit, if you ask him.

“How come I never get to drink the real thing?”

“Well, you hate it.” Maggie shrugs. “You’ve said so the past two years that we’ve let you had one sip for the toast.”

“But I’m older now, I can handle it.”

“You can try it again after you finish that.” Went tips his cup in the direction of Richie’s. Naturally, Richie throws his head back and drinks the apple juice in one gulp, almost cutting his lip in the process. Seriously, these things are that thin.

“Done.” He announces as he fills the cup with champagne. “Now we can have a real toast.”

Both adults laugh and soon the countdown begins. Richie screams the numbers along with his parents, keeping his thumb over the ‘send’ button at the same time.

“Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!”

He presses down, the text is sent, and he pockets his phone once again to click his fragile cup against his parents’. As expected, it tastes just as awful as he remembers. He spits it out much like last year, and they all go outside to see the fireworks.

  00:00 To: Spaghetti <3

And I just wanted to say that your smile reminds me that not all art is created with a pencil and a paintbrush.

  His phone vibrates at exactly 00:49, which means Richie is already in his bedroom because that’s how New Year works in his family. They stay home, celebrate till the fireworks die down, and then part ways at the end of the hallway.

He interrupts Charlie the goldfish’s dinner and checks his phone only to let the little container of fish’s food fall off his hand. Thankfully, it was closed.

 00:49 From: Spaghetti <3

Richie?

Did you steal that from your mom’s poetry collection, asshole? :P

 Charlie the goldfish fades out from his peripheral vision. Richie sits down before he collapses and bursts through the floor right onto their cold, lifeless basement.

 What the fuck?

Seriously.

What the actual fuck?

 With shaky hands, he types out a reply.

 Richie: what makes you think it’s richie?

 Spaghetti <3: Bill gave me everyone’s numbers

Spaghetti <3: I don’t have them saved yet because of my mom, though

Spaghetti <3: Why? Is this not Richie? Did Bill give me the wrong number?

 Fucking Bill. Now, Richie’s pacing the entire floor of his bedroom, knowing he’d walk right up to the celling if he could. He keeps staring at the small screen, wondering if he could save his ass by turning this shitty device off. His mom is right, technology sucks.

 Spaghetti <3: Hello??

 Shit.

 Richie: hahaha you got me Eds

Richie: c’est moi

 Then he hesitates for a second.

 Richie: sooo, are we good?

Spaghetti <3: Yeah, of course

Spaghetti <3: Why shouldn’t we be?

 Oh. Oh. So, Eddie didn’t take him seriously. He took it as one of his weird jokes.

Here’s a getaway, Richie. You can play it off as prank, Richie. You can still walk away from this without completely ruining a friendship, Richie. Please take the opportunity, Richie.

 Richie: you don’t get it

 Shut the fuck up, Richie.

 Spaghetti <3: What?

 Richie: well

Richie: actually

Richie: you see

Spaghetti <3: Richie, spit it out you’re stressing me

Richie: right

Richie: you see

Spaghetti <3: You’ve said that before

Richie: correct I see your point Eds

Spaghetti <3: Not my name

Richie: the thing is

Richie: jesus I hope you forgive me

Richie: okay so

Richie: i don’t have a crush on you

Richie: i’m pretty sure that I love you

 There’s about a million smooth ways to say that you love someone. But Richie doesn’t choose one of those. Fitting.

It takes a few minutes before Eddie says something back. In those minutes, Richie starts crying.

 Spaghetti <3: Oh

It’s as vague as it can get, but one can take the hint.

Richie: i’m sorry

Spaghetti <3: You don’t have to apologize

Spaghetti <3: How long..?

 Richie: uh, since March?

 Which is a lie.

 Spaghetti <3: That’s a long time…

 Richie wants to laugh, then scream, then he wants to be able to stop crying.

 Spaghetti <3: Can we still be friends?

 On second thought, he doesn’t want to laugh.

 Richie: only if you still want to Spaghetti <3: Of course I want to Rich

Spaghetti <3: Don’t even say that

 Well, that’s good.

Richie: well that’s good

Richie: i’m sorry Eddie

Spaghetti <3: Don’t apologize asshole

Spaghetti <3: It’s fine I swear

 And then a few more minutes.

 Spaghetti <3: Happy new year

  The phone gets thrown, landing somewhere along the end of the bed. The blurry digital clock on his bedside table says it’s already 1:13 a.m. and by its side lays Charlie the goldfish’s tank.

It’s small, but it’s not a fishbowl. Richie learnt that lesson with his first goldfish, Oli. Poor her.

He follows Charlie’s swimming around a rock. A fish’s life seems peaceful and blissful and delightful and wonderful and many other adjectives ending in ‘ful’. Except for Oli’s life, of course. At this moment Richie’s life feels pretty much like Oli’s.

He sighs through another wet sob.

“Happy fucking new year, Charlie.”

perma taglist:  @constantreaderfool   @mrs-vh  @eds-trashmouth @girasol-eddie  @reddieforlove @madi-personal  @cheekaspbrak​

Let me know if you want to be tagged for this!

[writhingcreature]

Prompt 8 - Stenbrough

“I don’t know if you are still doing drabbles or not, but can you do one with stenbrough? Maybe one using the quote “With you, I am safe?” Please? I’m in the mood for softness.” - @a-false-king​

Stan was really chill, for the most part. He liked the quiet and the stillness. Or, the slow, lowkey things about the world that often went unnoticed. He liked sitting outside on a sunny day with eyes closed, listening to the very distant sound of traffic and feeling the breeze and light on his skin. He basked in it, far away from chaos and therefore safe from danger.

Life was kind of terrifying for Stan. He was a gut driven man, often leaning towards things that felt good and taking off at full speed away from things that even remotely made him feel uncomfortable. He liked things neat and in order. He liked them to make sense. He liked making people happy and doing what he was supposed to.

Bill was kind of a mess. He wasn’t as bad as Richie, but when Richie needed a midnight friend to go and create havoc with, it was always Bill he called. He liked having fun and going out and driving a little faster than he should. He liked 2am ice cream and thriller movies and horror novels and drama plays that had lots of fighting and ridiculousness in it. He liked getting into trouble, and that never went away- even when he got older.

Things still scared Bill, but he was the kind of man that usually ignored those feelings in favor of doing what was right, or doing what he wanted to do.  On top of that, not only was he good at getting into trouble, he was good at dragging people along with him. Usually, Richie would drag him and sometimes Bev, and Bill would be left with the job of getting those of the Losers who were hesitant.

Even after years of eventually winning over each and every one of the Losers, Stan remained stubborn. It was a fight every time. A promise. A swear. A guarantee. Every time it Stan who hesitated each time, ending up enjoying it the most when it was all over. It was Stan who got them out of trouble, talking or reasoning their way out of getting caught like he was mind controlling them. And every time, it was always only ever Bill who could get him to agree to come along.

As they got older, they got into less pranks and sneaking out became less for the Losers and much more often just the two of them. Bill was talking Stan into dates rather than early morning mischief. They were falling asleep at each other’s houses and holding hands under the table and kissing int he back of the movie theater and flirting with each other when they were sure no one could hear. Soon, it was less “let’s go get food” and more “let’s go make out”.

Suddenly Bill and Stan were in a full fledged secret relationship and Stan was utterly terrified every second of it. On top of the sneaking around, Bill was very obvious and endlessly insatiable. He always wanted to stay a little bit longer. He always wanted one more kiss. Five more minutes cuddling. He flirted with Stan in public for pete’s sake! Thank god for Stan’s cleverness, otherwise everyone would have found out a long time ago.

Two boys being together? In Derry, Maine? I think not.

Yet here Stan and Bill were. Being very much together and most definitely falling in love.

They never did tell the others about them, though their friends weren’t stupid and seemed to know. It was just that no one ever said anything about it. When Stan got into a more serious business, after college, he invited Bill to go with him. To leave Derry. Bill, who fancied being a writer, was all too eager.

Bill was a little dangerous. A little wild. A little crazy. Despite everything, he never lost his touch of youth and drive for excitement. He never fully grew up, cracking jokes and rolling his eyes and winking and teasing and flirting like they were still sixteen and not-so-secretly crushing on each other.

Stan was still terrified. Life still scared him. He still had a tendency to hide behind Bill when people got a little nasty or too curious or Bill was being a tad too obvious. He still had nightmares that woke him up or kept him from sleeping all together. He still jumped when people even said the word gay or looked between Bill and Stan with That Look that hinted at them maybe knowing everything.

At the end of the day though, Bill was there to soothe him. No matter how scared he was. How unsure he was. Bill understood his fear. Hell, Bill was no less afraid than Stan was. Bill understood the clown that haunted his nightmares, and the people that haunted him every waking second of life in general as they hesitated to hold hands in public despite how much Bill wanted to kiss Stan, no matter who was around. 

Bill never judged him or teased him. And Bill wasn’t afraid of everything. He was strong and unbreakable, easy to lean on and never hesitant to support Stan if Stan so needed it. 

Then they got the call. The phone rang and Bill picked it up. “Hello?”

“Hey Bill. It’s Mike Hanlon.”

Bill’s eyebrows came together. “Who?”

“From Derry.” Bill was quiet. “Look Bill. Uh, IT’s back.”

The phone dropped. “Bill?” Stan called from the other room. There was no response. He shot up and to where Bill was, instantly a lot more nervous upon seeing Bill’s blank eyes and pale face. “Bill what’s wrong?” He heard a distant voice and looked down, eyes landing on the phone. He picked it up. “Hello?”

“Hi. This is Mike. Hanlon. Uh, is Bill there?”

“This is his-” he cut off then set his face. “This is his husband.” They’d been working on being more open about that one. Debated on it for a long time. It had gotten easier, especially as people got more and more accepting. Today, it wasn’t too big of a deal. Nothing compared to what it was when they were kids. It was even legal now. They’d gotten married a few months ago, after being together for the last thirty years or so. Give or take. Having shame about it now was just dumb.

The man on the other line was quiet for a second. Maybe a little surprised. “Uh, Stan?”

Stan froze. How did this man know who he was? “I’m sorry, who did you say you were again?”

The man sighed. “Mike Hanlon.” He seemed irritated. “Derry, Stan. I know it’s hard, but you have to remember. IT’s back. We promised, back then. You have to come back. We have to defeat it this time. For real.”

Stan’s brain was having a hard time connecting the pieces of a puzzle he didn’t know he was trying to solve. “It? What is...” And then it clicked. He felt his whole body go numb. His brain went fuzzy. His heart seemed to be beating so fast it couldn’t be felt at all. Or maybe it had just stopped beating.

No. Not this. Anything but this.

“Stan?”

“Yes.” Stan was in full business mode, surprising himself with how calm he sounded. “When should I come?”

“Immediately,” Mike answered, seeming relieved. Maybe he’d had a rough time with the others too. Others? What others? Stan’s brain was having a hard time thinking through the utter panic consuming. He looked to Bill for comfort and was even more horrified to realize this is why Bill was currently bent over, hands on the table in front of him and head dangling limply between his shoulders. Stan wouldn’t be able to look for safety this time. 

“Okay. I’ll be there soon.”

“Perfect.” Then he gave Stan some information about some restaurant. An address, time, and date. “See you there?”

“For sure.” Stan hung up, a little piece of paper with all the information on it in his hand. He looked at the paper. Then he placed the phone down very calmly, the piece of paper next to it. Bill might go.

Stan wouldn’t.

But it was Bill. Surely he’d find a way to talk Stan into going. Bill always did. What if Bill couldn’t talk him into it? What if he couldn’t be talked into doing... anything?

“I’m going to take a bath.” He looked at Bill, but the blonde man was still panicking.

Bill did look up just as Stan was about to settle for no response. “Y-yeah. That’s f...” He blinked, both of them becoming pale. Bill hadn’t stuttered in a very, very long time. Probably about ten years. Give o take. “That’s f-fine,” he whispered, his voice hoarse.

Stan went to the bathroom, getting undressed as the tub filled up with water. He climbed in, letting the warm water soothe the guilt that came with his decision. Just a little. He closed his eyes for a second, taking an even breath before opening them again. “I’m sorry, Bill.” The light reflected off of something in his hand. He moved the shiny thing toward his other wrist...

Bill suddenly got a terrible feeling in his gut. He’d been remembering a small boy with a red balloon and a yellow jacket. A little boy that used to mean everything to him. Someone he’d taken for granted before he’d lost him, and with him, nearly everything else. He was so trapped in those memories, he hadn’t even thought of Stan. Everything else had been too overwhelming.

Stanley never took baths. He always took showers.

Bill was running before he could even form another coherent thought. The door flung open and Stan jumped, splashing water on the floor causing him to grip the thing he was holding a little tighter. They locked eyes.

Instantly Stan started crying. Bill tripped closer, reaching over to turn the faucet off before scooping Stan into his arms, pulling them closer despite the water and how it soaked Bill, who was fully dressed. “I’ sorry, Bill,” Stan sobbed, shaking in his arms.

“I-it’s okay,” Bill stuttered weakly, trying not to think about what would have happened if he’d been even a second later. He failed. He thought about that thing, hovering just over the skin of Stan’s wrist. He thought about what this room would have looked like covered in Stan’s blood. “P-please d-d-d-” he cut off, gasping. “I can’t lo-I can’t- you can’t-” He blinked, trying to calm down. “You have to go with me. I c- I can’t lose you too. P-pl-pluh-” He grunted softly. “Please Sta- Stan.”

“I swear, Bill.” As always, Bill could talk Stan into anything.

Even staying alive.

Later, as they were packing, Stan came over and touched Bill on the shoulder. The blonde man looked over, still frowning. Eyes haunted. Stan wondered if his eyes looked the same. “I’m sorry Bill. I... I can’t imagine how it would have been for you, finding me... like that. On top of everything.”

Bill shook his head. “I d-don’t blame you.” He coughed, looking away as his eyes glazed over with tears.

For the first time, Stan pulled Bill into his arms. Bill buried his face in Stan’s chest. He hid behind Stan for the first time in their relationship. Stan had to be the one to comfort. He’d calmed down a lot. Seeing Bill had cleared his mind a little. Thinking about the consequences to his actions had made him think a little more. He was still terrified. He wasn’t shaking anymore, but he’d faced plenty of scary things. He cold handle anything with Bill by his side.

Unfortunately, Bill hadn’t reached the same conclusion. He was finally facing a fear that had toppled him completely over, and he couldn’t pull himself back up. He was beginning to worry no one could. “You know, wuh-once you asked me how nothing scared me. How I was so untouched by what people thought a-about-about us.” Bill clung to Stan. “Th-That wasn’t true, Stan. S...So much scares me. When I send a book in to a p-p-publisher. When I’m starting a new muh-movie and I’m not sure how the actors will be or h...how it’s all going to work when it comes to uh-applying the script. When someone new finds out I’m married to a muh-man.” He shook his head and Stan rubbed his back, letting him talk. Being patient through the stuttering. “Before I... always felt like nothing could touch me when I was with you, Stan.” He finally managed to not stutter, relaxing him a little more. “With you, I felt safe.” His face contorted. “I-I’m sorry I couldn’t do the same with you.”

Stan felt like he’d been slapped. He leaned close to Bill, making sure his husband could hear him. “You are enough, Bill. That was never the problem. I was an idiot to think that nothing scared you. That nothing bothered you. And it makes me so happy to know that I can help you handle this, in any way. I just...” His eyes watered as well and his grip on Bill tightened. “I’m such a coward.”

Bill sighed, then sniffed. “Let’s be cowards together, huh? Please?”

Stan smiled. “Yeah okay. This time I really do promise.”

“Forever?” Bill whispered.

“Absolutely,” Stan agreed. And suddenly he was a lot more at ease. Because he and Bill had something none of the others did. He had someone who would be by his side as long as he was allowed to be. Someone who not only loved him but understood him. Stan didn’t have to make up some lame excuse to go to Derry to Bill, because Bill would be right there with him.

And damn it all, Stan would make sure he really would always be able to, because Bill made him feel safe too. From then on, they’d have each other’s backs. IT or no.

[hanscom]

💛-mermaids? Idk how specific i need to be but for the losers club lol

Everyone who’s from Derry has heard about what lives in the quarry.

There’s not a name for them. Those who are unimaginative (or perhaps just lazy) call them mermaids, but that’s not what they are, not really. Mermaids are supposed to live in the ocean - not in some small, dingy, manmade lake.

People come from all over to see them. All sorts of shops have set up downtown: quaint seafood restaurants with voluptuous, finned ladies as their logo. Gift shops with miniature blown-glass keepsakes. A visitor center with a half-dozen pamphlets, each with their own suggestions on the best way to see the creatures. Late at night, some say. Early morning, say others.

Personally, Richie thinks it’s all a big hoax. A tourist trap to drag people to Derry, to blind them with enough supernatural hope so they can’t see what an awful place it really is. They bring their children and entertain them with a few good hours of creature-hunting, and then the kids inevitably get bored of finding nothing, and so they move on. But not before they spend a few dollars in the McDonalds drive thru and at the gas pumps on the edge of town. These people keep Derry alive. They’re paying for a lie, but they don’t have to know that.

Richie works as a tour guide, of sorts. Mostly he keeps an eye on the quarry and picks up litter and occasionally saves a kid or two from drowning. He hates his job. He’s good at his job. He’s been doing this since he was sixteen. He’s almost twenty-eight now. Twelve years of this shit, and he’s never once seen them, these quarry creatures.

He used to believe in them. Every Derry kid did. They all got caught up in the magic, too young and dumb to understand that dull look in their parents’ eye, the way they didn’t quite believe what they were saying. That’s the way he talks now. The parents give him sympathetic half-smiles, but the kids latch on to his every word. He feels bad, sometimes, deceiving them, but it’s just harmless fun. Like Santa Claus.

It’s a Wednesday night in the middle of October, one of the slowest nights of the entire year. School is just starting to get serious. Kids aren’t worried about mermaids when midterms are coming up. Richie hasn’t seen a soul all day, but he kind of likes it like that. It’s peaceful down on the water when no one’s around. Cold already, but not freezing yet. Quiet. Sometimes the wind dips down into the quarry and makes a loud, hollow, miserable noise, but the air is pretty still now.

Which is weird, because he just heard a splash.

That happens, sometimes. There are fish in the quarry, and small turtles. But that sounded sort of big. Well, whatever. Maybe something rolled off the cliff and fell in.

Or maybe someone’s trespassing. Best to check. Just in case.

His boat is a little wooden single-person kayak. It floats perfectly on the water, used to his weight. He’s gotten good at rowing it, even when it’s stormy out and the water acts up. It’s calm now, but there’s that sound again. Splash! Far off to his left. The water ripples.

“Someone out there?” he yells, feeling stupidly like an actor in some bad horror film, the one that dies in the first ten minutes before the good shit even starts. He turns his phone’s flashlight on and casts the light onto the water. It reflects, suddenly and unexpectedly, off of someone’s face.

Richie jumps back so hard he almost tips the kayak over. A gasp tears out of his chest, raw-sounding. The person in the water flinches away just as hard, backpedaling in the water, surprisingly graceful. He has nothing to push off of but he somehow manages to dart back a few good feet, out of reach of the light cast by Richie’s phone.

“You’re not supposed to be swimming here,” Richie calls. He sounds braver than he feels. What kind of lunatic goes for a dip in mermaid-infested waters? Not that there really are any mermaids. But this guy can’t know that. He’s not a local. Richie has never seen him before.

The boy doesn’t say anything. Richie only knows he’s still there because he can hear the gentle way he’s treading water. His movement makes small waves lap quietly against the side of the kayak.

“You have to leave,” Richie tries, more forcefully this time. “Don’t make me call the cops.”

Richie can just barely see movement outside the perimeter of his flashlight’s reach. He leans in, trying to make his eyes adjust, and then jumps back again when the guy pops up out of the water, suddenly a few inches from him.

“Jesus!” he gasps, clutching his chest. “Stop doing that!”

The man smiles. “I’m sorry,” he says, but he doesn’t sound very sorry. He sounds like he’s trying not to laugh.

“Yeah, yeah,” Richie mutters, his heart still pounding. “Laugh it up. You done messing around now? You’ve played your prank, let’s go.”

The man bobs in the water. His movement is fluid. Seamless. He’s clearly a strong swimmer. Maybe he was one of those weird kids who always wanted to be a mermaid, and now he’s trying to come home to his real family or something. The thought almost makes Richie laugh.

He doesn’t say anything. A handful of strange, silent seconds pass. “Hello?” Richie says eventually, waving his hand in front of the man’s face, careful not to get too close. “Can you hear me?”

“I can hear you,” the man says calmly. “You’re very loud.”

Well, this guy is certainly not the first person to ever say so. “And you’re very quiet,” Richie points out. “You’re the one trying to sneak up on me.”

“I wasn’t trying to scare you,” the man says. “I thought you had left. You’re usually gone by now.”

The hair on the back of Richie’s neck stands up. This guy knows his schedule? Jesus. This might be worse than he thought.

Maybe he looks as terrified as he feels, because the man stares at him, cocking his head to the side. “Is something wrong?” he asks. “You don’t look like yourself.”

Fuck. Oh, fuck. “I’m fine,” Richie says faintly. How the hell is he gonna get out of this one? He’s a strong rower, but this guy looks like maybe he’s a stronger swimmer.

“Are you sure?” The man’s eyes are wide and dark, deceptively gentle. He floats closer to the boat and puts his hand on the side of it. Richie is half-afraid he’s going to tip it over, but he doesn’t. Instead, he says, “You look pale, Richie.”

Richie’s heart jams up in his throat. “You know my name?” he squeaks out, pathetically frightened and unable to hide it.

This strange man smiles a strange smile, like he’s humoring Richie. “Of course I do,” he says. “You’re the protector.”

The protector…? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?

“Dude, I just do what I get paid for,” he says, trying to sound calm and convincing. “I’m not, like, the guardian of the quarry. I don’t give a shit what happens to it.”

The man looks strangely upset by that. His face crumbles into a displeased frown. “That’s not true. You protect it.”

Richie shakes his head. “The only thing I do is make sure no one litters and that people stay in the designated swimming area,” he argues.

The man nods eagerly. “Exactly. You keep us safe.”

Us…?

Richie stares at him. “The only thing I keep alive in here is the wildlife. So unless you’re part fish, I’m not protecting you.”

Something twitches on the man’s face, something both amused and exasperated. “Isn’t that what your people say we are?” he asks. “Part fish?”

God. Oh, God. This guy is cracked.

“Are you trying to say,” Richie says, his voice shaking just the slightest bit, “that you’re a mermaid?”

The man laughs. “Of course not,” he says, and Richie would be relieved except he follows it up with, “That’s not what we’re called.”

Richie probably shouldn’t encourage this delusion, but he can’t resist. “What are you called then?”

The man considers the question. “Eddie,” he finally decides.

Richie’s eyebrows furrow. “You’re called Eddies?”

The man shakes his head. “No. I’m called Eddie.”

“Oh,” Richie realizes. “That’s your name.”

Eddie nods happily. “There are others,” he says, more talkative now, perhaps pleased that Richie is humoring him. “Stan and Bill and Bev and Mike and Ben.”

“Those are pretty normal names,” Richie points out.

Eddie smiles. “You couldn’t pronounce my real name,” he says. “We stole these names from humans. We didn’t think you would mind.”

Richie nods like he understands. God, he has a headache. He just wants to get this nut out of the water so he can go home. “Where are you friends?” he asks, just in case.

“Oh, they’re hiding,” Eddie says dismissively. “They’re scared of you.”

Richie almost laughs. Of all the ludicrous ideas, that one almost beats out mermaids. “Why? I’m not scary.”

“I know that,” Eddie says. “You’re good. But we’re not supposed to talk to humans.”

“Why not?” Richie asks.

Eddie levels him with a flat look like it’s a stupid question. “Because they want to hurt us,” he says. His voice doesn’t sound playful anymore. Instead it’s melancholy. Heart-wrenching. Ancient, like he’s actually much older than he appears. “They come here to find us, pretending they would be happy just to see us. But all they really want is to hunt us.” He peers at Richie and his expression suddenly clears. “You’re not like that, though.”

Maybe this is all a dream. Maybe Richie never really woke up this morning. Maybe he fell and knocked himself out and and this is all in his subconscious. Maybe this is a feverish hallucination. Maybe he’s dead and this is some really weird afterlife.

He pinches himself, just to be sure. Yep, still hurts. Eddie watches the movement, looking confused, and then understanding passes over his face.

“You don’t believe me,” he says. He doesn’t sound upset about it, but Richie is still half-afraid he’s some kind of lunatic ready to snap, so he quickly shakes his head.

“Of course I believe you!” he protests, but he must not sound very convincing, because Eddie latches both hands onto the side of the boat. He’s going to tip it, Richie realizes frantically and he tries to brace himself for the cold water. But nothing happens.

Well, nothing except that Eddie lets his body float away from the body, so that it’s almost horizontal with the surface. His head and chest are still above water, held up by his grip on the kayak, and his back and shoulders are strong and muscled and bare, but Richie isn’t looking at that.

Richie isn’t looking at that because there, past his waist, where there should be legs, there’s… there’s a tail. It’s long and wet and shining, reddish-brown, flecked with gold. It is scaly and thick and pulsing gently, keeping Eddie’s body afloat. It starts somewhere near where his hips should be, vaguely flesh-colored at first, and ends with a fin, split and delicate-looking. It comes up out of the water and then falls back with a heavy splash, and then disappears underneath the surface as Eddie rights himself again.

Eddie, for his part, looks rather smug. “I told you,” he says.

Richie opens his mouth to say something. Anything. But slowly, steadily, his vision starts to blur and go black. He doesn’t realize he’s passing out, and there’s no time to save himself from falling back into the water. He hears a shout and then a splash, and then, right before everything goes totally black, he feels someone grab him, solid and strangely warm, holding him up, keeping his face from sinking below the surface.

[call-me-eds]

Yes

Stan has had enough of Bill’s heroics and can’t help but put his foot down.

“Yes.”

He knew exactly what he was getting into when he said yes. From the first one to the last, every single time that Stan Uris said ‘yes’ to Bill Denbrough it was like he was high. The smile that lit up Bill’s face and how happy it made him was all Stan needed to feel good in his decision. It made him feel so good to do it in the moment but sometimes the come-down wasn’t worth it at all. Of course, most of the time’s Stan gave in to Bill’s requests for an adventure or something a little out of his comfort zone, it ended up being one of the best decisions he could have ever made, but not always.

           Thankfully, there was nothing but good memories for Stan from the first time Bill asked if he could kiss him. Stumbling home at 16 with cheap beer in their systems, Bill having thought he could intake much more than his virgin liver could handle. Stan was so close to letting Bill sleep on the porch so he could avoid the possibility of waking up Mr. and Mrs. Denbrough, but he helped him up to his room in a moment of weakness. These moments were always at the fault of Bill’s deep brown eyes and smile. Even if his breath smelled disgusting like it had that night, Stan didn’t have the willpower to say no.

           He was trying to wrestle a more comfortable shirt onto Bill’s torso while all Bill wanted to do was collapse on his bed.

           “Please, Stanley, I think I’ll survive if I sleep in my jeans,” he laughed like a little kid and got himself away from Stan so he could make a move for his twin bed.

           “Fine, be uncomfortable, see what I care,” Stan shrugged. “I’m going home. Sleep on your side,” he instructed. Bill grunted like Stan was his mother telling him to go wash the dishes. Stan was on his way to the door to make a sneaky exit when a commotion from Bill’s bed caught his attention.

           “Are you okay?” he hissed, turning around quickly.

           “I’m fine,” Bill laughed, trying to wrangle his legs out of his jeans while on the floor. Stan rolled his eyes and went to help him up. “I got it, I got it,” he said, pushing him away. Stan helped him anyway. Bill smiled up at Stan like he was the only person who mattered.

“How much did you even drink?” Stan asked.

“Only a few beers. I wanted to see how much you would do for me,” he laughed and Stan gently punched his arm, taking hold of it to immediately stunt any pain. “I really did almost fall on the way home, though, you saved my ass.”

“I know I did. I always do,” Stan rolled his eyes. Anything from Algebra quizzes to reaching his skinny arm behind a couch to grab Bill’s wallet that always ended up lost, Stan was there with him.

           “Would you be mad if I kissed you?” Bill asked. Stan didn’t say a thing. He just loosened his grip a little bit on Bill’s arms while Bill tightened his. “Can I?” he repeated.

           “Yes,” Stan breathed, and Bill was on him in a second.

           There were innumerable kisses, sober and drunk, after that. Stan saying ‘yes’ was the best thing he could have done for his confidence and for his emotional health. Having Bill felt like he had anything he could have ever wanted. He knew, though, that everyone wanted a piece as well.

           Since they were running around on the playground Bill had been the leader for everyone. He took charge, he took care, and he took responsibility. How could Stan keep him from his responsibilities? He couldn’t, really. So every time that Bill left a movie early or had to cancel on Stan to help Ben with something or to make sure Richie wasn’t in a ditch somewhere, Stan tried not to bat an eye. He tried so hard, but it wasn’t the easiest thing in the world to do.

           One of the first disappointments that came from Stan saying ‘yes’ came during a chemistry project.

           “Bev needs more help. You can do this in your sleep, you know she’s much better at English and Art,” Bill had said when Stan assumed they would be partnering up. “Is it okay if I pair up with her? If she doesn't pass the class then she has to take it again during summer school.”

           “Yeah, I guess,” Stan nodded. “Just don’t do all of the work, that’s not fair.”

           “Of course not,” he shook his head. “Good luck,” he squeezed his hand before going over to Bev’s table, sending Ben over to Stan.

           These situations never bothered Stan, though. Bill was trying to help, he was acting in the best interest of someone else. The only time that it bothered Stan was when there were other intentions behind it. Not always Bills intentions, but someone else’s. Bill was too concerned with the greater good to think that anyone would ever be doing anything for a selfish reason.

           “Bill, I am begging you with every ounce in my body let me use your car tonight,” Richie said. His reason was dire, according to him.

           “Can’t you walk?” Bill asked. “We’re going to the drive-in tonight,” he grabbed Stan’s hand and smiled.

           “If I try and pick this girl up in my fucking keds, she’s going to laugh in my face. When Richie Tozier goes out on a date it’s a guarantee of nothing but romance and luxury,” he said.

           “Yeah, and a two-minute blowjob,” Eddie teased.

           “Stop,” Mike laughed, sliding his own keys from the table into his pocket.

           “Can’t he use your car?” Bill asked.

           “Can’t, I have to go home early tonight. Plus, last time that a scratch popped up I got my ass handed to me at home,” he said. Stan tried to keep his eyes locked on the squirrel’s jumping from branch to branch in the trees outside of Bill’s bedroom window so he wouldn't have to look at the face Bill was undoubtedly giving him.

           “Hey,” a small voice whispered that Stan knew all too well. He didn’t turn and just let Bill speak softly into his ear. “Maybe we can just watch a movie on the couch tonight? Save a few bucks?”

           “I thought you wanted to see a new movie, one you’ve never seen before,” Stan pointed out, turning to look at Bill’s face which was closer than he expected.

           “Sure, but what’s wrong with watching an old classic? You can pick, we can get into our pajamas, have a nice night in,” he said softly, leaning forward and brushing Stan’s lips with his own as he spoke.

           “Bill, we planned to go out tonight. I told my mom I wouldn’t be home for dinner,” Stan continued. He deserved a night out. Just because Richie couldn’t figure out how to get his car running without duct tape didn’t mean that Stan should have to suffer.

           “What if we make dinner here, huh? I promise, next week we will go. I’ll push the car down the street if I have to,” he smiled. “I just feel bad; he’s been trying to get this date all semester. You think we could postpone?” he leaned in closer against Stan and smiled softly.

           “Yeah, fine,” Stan nodded. He knew if they took the car that evening Bill would be a sighing mess until he was able to check up on Richie.

           “You’re so selfless,” Bill smiled. “Here, Trashmouth,” he threw the keys at Richie, who hopped up and threw his arms around Stan’s neck.

           “Stanley, if I don’t get laid tonight, I pray to whatever god there is that you do. You’re the best, man,” he grinned. And that grin on his face was enough to make Bill feel good, great even, about what he had done. He ruined his night with Stan and pissed him off, but he barely noticed. All he cared about is that he made someone else happy.

           Happy. Happiness and safety was all Bill wanted to provide for his friends. It was one of the qualities Stan absolutely loved and absolutely hated about him. He could get over the breaking of dates and the phone calls Bill took to give advice when they were supposed to be spending time together. But when Bill expected Stan to sit back and let himself get put in harms way for someone else? That was inexcusable. There was being generous and nice and then there was being stupid. Sure, Stan had a problem with saying yes too much to Bill, but Bill had never uttered the word ‘no’ in his life. Sometimes Stan needed to say it for him.

           The Losers had built up their reputations around the school since they were 13. Sports and elaborate pranks on teachers helped start friendships with more of their classmates, so they were no strangers to parties on the weekends and having to sneak into their bedrooms quietly enough as to not get into trouble before the sun rose on Sunday. But everyone had bad nights, it was impossible to avoid.

           “Jesus, Eds,” Richie wasn’t laughing at his friend tonight, throwing up violently in the bushes. He had been there himself just a few weekends before and had nothing but compassion. Ben stood at the side of the house, stopping anyone from turning the corner to save Eddie any further embarrassment than what had already come to him. That was the extent one had to go to to pat himself on the back for the evening. All he had to do was his part. But in Bill’s mind, that was not nearly enough.

           “Okay, go get him water and see what food you can get,” he told Richie, who dodged inside quickly. “I’m going to run home and I’ll be fine to drive him back. Make sure he drinks even if he doesn't want to,” he said to Mike. He was about to take off running when Stan grabbed his wrist.

           “You can’t drive,” he shook his head. Eddie’s quick downfall had sobered them all up slightly, but that wasn’t saying much. Beverly and Mike were still lost inside and Ben had taken to sitting on the ground to stop people from walking by instead of standing at attention like he was before. Richie was as high as a kite and was trying to find shapes in Eddie’s vomit before Stan pulled him away.

           “I’ll be fine. Eddie needs-”

           “He doesn’t need you wrapping yourself around a telephone pole,” Stan said firmly.

           “I’m okay,” Eddie coughed and took a deep breath, stepping back into the meek light of the streetlamps. His pale face wasn’t frightening, but the night needed to end and it needed to end now. “I just need someone to take me home,” he said, eyes immediately meeting Bill’s.

           Bill, who had promised Stan a spot in his bed tonight, would never let Eddie go home when he was this sick. He wouldn’t let there be an inkling of a chance that his mother would catch him and Eddie knew that, they all did.

           Stan, who had been thinking about being under the covers with his boyfriend for the better part of the week, was not going to let anything change the course of action he had set out for himself earlier in the night. Eddie didn’t need Bill but he wanted Bill, because that’s who they all went to when they needed anything. Bill was always more than happy to comply. And it didn’t hurt that Eddie had been a little bit in love with Bill since before they graduated grammar school.

“I can walk,” Eddie promised. “We can just walk,” he tried to move towards everyone but had to lean up against the house.

           There was never a moment in time where Stan worried Bill was going to break up with him for someone else. He knew Bill was in love with him and he was secure in that. There wasn’t a person who could come between them. That didn’t mean, though, that Stan didn’t see the longing glances, the sighs, and the extended touches. He knew Eddie didn’t mean to, either, but he was still too observant not to let it invade his brain every once in a while. And right now his drunk brain was very vulnerable.

           “Ben, can you take him?” Stan asked. Bill gave him an odd look, but his protests were interrupted by the door opening again.

           “Heard we were down one tonight,” Beverly emerged with Richie and Mike and handed Eddie the water they got from inside.

           “I’m fine,” he repeated, even though he held onto her wrist to steady himself.

           “Don’t drink that too fast, man,” Richie scowled before Eddie heaved over the bushes once more.

           “Look, I’m okay. I can drive him home,” Bill put his fingertip to his nose and started walking in a straight line as if Stan was a police officer. “Stan, he’s really sick,” Bill frowned.

           “And we’re all drunk. There’s no way I’m letting you get behind a wheel. I wish I could tell you there’s something we can do, but there’s not, Bill. He’s going to have to go home and sleep it off,” Stan said. He saw the wheel’s turning in Bill’s head and was unsure what kind of response would come out of him when Bill inevitably came up with another scenario in which he directly helped Eddie.

           “He shouldn’t have to do that alone, though. I’ll get my sleeping bag out, and-”

           “No!” the alarming tone that came from Stan was unprecedented. It wasn’t a shout, or rude, or mean, just exhausted. He was tired of having to share his boyfriend with everyone who wanted to take advantage of his giving personality. “He is fine, Bill. He is okay.”

The loud music from inside the house was still booming. Loud enough to take Stan back to a mere hour before, when Bill’s hands were on his waist and his back was against the cool wall.

“Let’s go,” Stan said, pulling away. Bill just surged forward and kissed Stan’s skin like he only ever had when they were in private. If Stan hadn’t have let Richie pour his drink, he certainly would have pushed Bill away.

           “Woah, you two heading out early tonight?” Richie slid up next to them and Stan peeled Bill off of him, wiping away the saliva quickly drying on his skin.

           “Not until we’re all ready to go,” Bill said as if he had repeated it a thousand times before. Stan’s visible disappointment didn’t get past Richie even if Bill wasn’t paying attention to the change in his boyfriend’s demeanor.

           “I’ll take over watch-dog duty. Get out of here,” Richie said, winking slyly at Stan who was going to take him up on his offer by pulling Bill out of the house without a choice before he got defeated once again by the shake of Bill’s head.

           “We're fine. We have the house to ourselves for a few hours, my parents are at a wedding,” he said. “There’s no rush to leave.”

           “It’s already midnight,” Stan updated him.

           “What? Oh, shit,” Bill frowned. “The night flew by.” Stan knew that there was no hope in getting Bill to leave now without the guarantee of an empty house paired with the fact that his friends were not ready to go either.

           But it was one in the morning now and if they stayed at the party any longer they ran the risk of cops coming through and making everything even more of a mess.

           “Let someone else take him,” Stan said.

           “We got you, Buddy,” Mike was helping Eddie walk down the driveway while the rest of them followed slowly behind. Stan tried to turn the corner onto Bill’s street, although Bill’s feet seemed determined to keep going straight.

           “I just want to make sure he gets home okay,” Bill said in a way that made Stan feel like he was the one being unreasonable and a bad friend.

           “Jesus Christ,” Richie stopped in his tracks and turned around. Unfortunately, a big mouth came with a matching set of big ears. Once he heard something, there was no way his opinion was being kept to himself. “He wants to get you into bed, Denbrough. Don’t be an idiot.”

“No,” Stan put up his hand and willed Richie to keep walking. “What happens if we get stopped by a cop? The first scenario is you get suspended from baseball, your parents absolutely lose it, and you get in a shit ton of trouble. The second scenario is they take a look at your license and see an 18 year old with a drunk kid who isn’t even legal yet and they decide to take you in for the night. Colleges look at that shit, Bill, and they don’t just let it slide,” he said. “I get it that you love to take care of everyone and I love that about you. I love it so much, but there’s a point where you need to take care of yourself. If you’re not going to do it, I’ll try and help but you have to listen to me right now. So if you go you’re an idiot and I’m going to be so mad at you I don’t even know if I’ll be able to look at you,” he was breathing heavily and trying not to absolutely lose it in the middle of the street with his friends fifteen feet away.

“We got him,” Mike called and hoisted Eddie up a little bit, continuing on down the sidewalk. Richie winked at Stan and stuffed his hands in his pockets, laughing a little and walking away.

“If he opened his mouth I would have-”

“Stan finally showed his balls! Who fucking knew!” he yelled, pulling a cigarette out from his pocket and jogging far enough away that it wasn’t worth it for Stan to hunt him down.

“I’m sorry that that was in front of everyone,” Stan crossed his arms. He and Bill rarely disagreed. If they did it was between the two of them and they rationally spoke their minds. There wasn’t any yelling or screaming, of course there was the occasional shout but emotions were reeled in when they needed to be easily. There was a familiarity and likeness between the two of them that made conversations and disagreements easy.

“Don’t apologize,” Bill shook his head and kicked a rock. “I needed to hear it, I think. Maybe not like this, but-”

“I think that this was the only way it would get through to you. You have a thick skull,” Stan shrugged and Bill laughed.

“I know,” he said. “Come on,” they hooked a right and walked to their original destination. They didn’t hold hands or wrap their arms around each other because this wasn’t a boyfriend moment. Stan had to be Bill for Bill himself. The protector and a good friend and the person who had to make the big speech and the tough decision.

“Are we still on for tomorrow?” Stan stopped in front of Bill’s house and looked at his boyfriend who was literally glowing in the street light.

“What about tonight, you’re not coming in?” Bill asked. Fortunately for Stan, the little things that stuck in his mind for what seemed like forever flew right out of Bill’s head. He never held grudges - except against Richie - and was always in favor of forgetting rather than forgiving. “I told my mom that you’d be here for breakfast.”

“She was okay with that?” Stan asked. Ever since he and Bill told their parents about their relationship status, sleepovers were heavily monitored at the Uris’ house and the boys were kept under a microscope.

“She went out and bought that special cream cheese you like. Come on,” Bill held out his hand and pulled Stan towards the door. The car in the driveway let the boys know the Denbrough’s were home, so they knew to skip the third step on the staircase to avoid the creaking. Bill shut his door softly before turning on his lamp.

Stan didn’t have to search for a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt - he knew where Bill kept them. They silently moved around each other until their teeth were brushed and Bill had reduced his outfit to a pair of boxers.

“How are you not freezing?” Stan had asked a couple of weeks ago, when the air was still cold.

“I overheat in the night when you try to suffocate me with the blanket. You have to put on winter weight so you don’t freeze to death,” he had smiled. Stan made sure to keep a looser hold on the covers that night, but that meant Bill just held him tighter.

Their routine continued on, Bill sliding into the bed on the side closest to the wall so Stan could climb right on in next to him. He clicked the lamp off and let Stan’s soft hair rest on his chest. He made a small uncontent noise and Bill frowned. He patted Stan’s arm to get him to say what he was thinking. Even if Stan hadn’t meant to audibly show his frustration, Bill wouldn’t let it go.

“I’m just embarrassed,” he sighed.

“What? Why? You weren’t the one emptying your stomach in the street,” Bill said.

“I just shouldn’t have said that stuff in front of everyone. That’s not fair to you. It was embarrassing,” he repeated.

“They all know you’re the one who has to put me in my place,” Bill laughed. “Don’t even think about it, I’m sure they’ve moved on to something else by now.” Stan nodded and Bill tilted his head down so he could kiss Stan softly. “Seriously, don’t give it another thought. I’m happy you said something.” Admitting he was wrong was not something Bill often had to do, but when he did it was sincere. Of course, taking improvements is difficult when it’s from people who you’re constantly trying to help, but from Stan it was different.

“You just scare me sometimes,” he whispered. “I love that you want to do every possible thing you can for someone, but you need to know when to pull back.”

“What if I don’t want to pull back,” he grinned, leaning down to kiss Stan again. He pulled Stan up a little and moved his fingers through his hair.

“Then you’re going to get yourself into trouble,” Stan said, a small smirk on his face. It wouldn’t be detectable to everyone, but to Bill it was the biggest and brightest green light he had ever seen.

“God, I love trouble,” he smiled, slowly licking his lips before diving towards his boyfriend. For a few minutes the shuffling of the sheets and the smacking of lips was the only noise coming from Bill’s bedroom. With the added combination of alcohol and just being 17, soft moans and happy noises were starting to come from both boys.

“Your parents are going to wake up,” Stan sighed and angled his head back further so Bill had more room to work with.

“They won’t,” Bill promised, dragging his teeth gently like he knew drove Stan insane. His hands moved to the elastic of the sweatpants and dove in between the cotton and Stan’s skin.

“Your hands are cold,” Stan complained next.

“Sorry,” Bill rubbing Stan’s hips gently to warm them both up. Apparently the heat running through the rest of his body wasn’t coursing through to his hands like he had thought it was. “Can I-”

“Yes,” Stan nodded. He had told Bill no enough for the night. The sweatpants were being pushed down Stan’s legs while he laid on top of Bill, moving his tongue gently through his mouth and trying not to make a sound. Bill’s hot chest was heating Stan up quickly but he kept the comforter over their bodies for even more isolation in the already private room.

“Move,” Stan pushed Bill’s shoulders so he would sit up a little bit while he kissed down his chest slowly. “You have to let other people take care of you sometimes,” he said.

“By all means, go ahead,” Bill chuckled and leaned his head back, closing his eyes while his hands blindly found their way into Stan’s hair. Stan’s nimble fingers brushed along the top of Bill’s boxers. He tried not to let the small moan that came out of Bill spike his anxiety. But when he was pressing his mouth over the outline of his boyfriend’s dick while his parents slept twenty feet away, it was hard to be completely calm.

“Fuck,” Bill hissed when Stan all but tore the boxers from his body. The fabric falling to the floor in a heap.

“Be quiet,” Stan whispered harshly. “If you make another noise-”

“Are you gonna spank me?” Bill giggled and Stan pinched his leg.

“Okay, goodnight,” he tossed the covers off of himself and covered up Bill, curling into a ball away from him.

“No, no, I’m sorry,” Bill laughed. “Come on,” he pulled on the long sleeve shirt that Stan was wearing. It dawned “Derry High School” across the chest. Stan had the same one but he deeply preferred to wear Bill’s. He probably wouldn’t say it, but Bill knew by the way Stan would ‘forget’ to take it off before he went home or would cover his nose with his arms, not so slyly smelling the fabric.

“You’re still drunk you probably can’t even get it up,” Stan said, making Bill laugh even louder. “Shut up,” Stan smiled and put his hand over Bill’s mouth. As if they were much younger than they were, Bill licked his hand to get it off.

“That was a good one. As if you’re sober,” he said. “You’re going to have a killer headache in the morning and we both know it.”

“Shut up,” he said again, picking up the sweatpants and pulling them on. He threw Bill his boxers before grabbing an extra sweatshirt that was hanging off of the desk chair.

“You’re really that cold already? Get back in,” Bill peeled back the covers and Stan got under them after double checking that the door was locked. Bill’s arms, not much stronger than his own, enveloped him and he felt like he could just sink into the mattress.

“Are you still mad at me?” Bill softly said, kissing Stan’s shoulder one more time, briefly.

“Yes,” Stan replied, even though they both knew it wasn’t true.

“Will you still be in the morning?” he asked, pressing his soft cheeks against his neck.

“Yes,” Stan repeated. “But only because I know you’re going to fuck something up again tomorrow,” he kissed Bill before he could let out an inappropriately loud laugh again.

“Will you still love me, though?” Stan outwardly hated this little game Bill played, but the redness on his cheeks and the way his heart was jumping up and down didn’t say that one bit.

“Yes.”

[thotzier]

Bad News, Good Intentions

                                  IT x Stranger Things crossover

Summary: Derry is a small town were nothing happens but things started to get weirder and weirder, little did this club of losers know that there was another small town that was just as weird as theirs.

Pairings: Reader x The Losers Club

Word Count: 2364

A/N: This is my first fic... and idek man, I think I’ve got a cool concept going on in my head but I don’t know how to properly write it down??? Anyhow, I hope you enjoy it & tell me if I should continue!!

Living in a small town had its perks, boy, you would know. There was no comparison between the empty streets and calm nights with the sounds of cars honking their way through the streets and midnight arguments.

Derry was no different from the other small towns, it was just a place in the middle of Maine where nothing truly happened and everyone was aware of that or at least tried to keep it that way. The only reason why people would mention Derry was because of the outrageous number of missing kids and even then, it seemed like no one was planning to do something about it... well, no grownup at least.

You sat on the edge of the quarry’s cliff, swinging your feet as you waited for the rest of your friends to arrive. You enjoyed being alone as much as everyone else but in days like these, there was nothing you longed more than being with your friends, your losers. Perhaps you spent too much time around them, but when you are being chased by a demonic clown, how couldn’t you?

These people were the only ones aware of IT besides yourself, meaning that you were the only ones who knew the true reason behind the disappearances of all those children. Telling any adult was no use, they wouldn’t listen, your parents didn’t care about you, that’s a thing you all had in common... except Eddie, perhaps his mother cared a little too much.

It wasn’t like you didn’t love your parents, you did, but they were never there for you. You were aware of how busy it was the life of a scientist... or at least, could imagine, considering they were always going from place to place and were never home. They were like a pair of strangers, strangers who would feed and dress you but that was it. You were still fond of them, to a point, after all... they are your parents, and you had to.

Grabbing a pebble next to you, you threw it over the cliff, watching it fall and splash. You stared at the greenish water, smiling to yourself. “Having fun?” A voice said, breaking the silence. Turning around, you saw one your friends walking towards you. “Mike!”

“Hey” he sat next to you. “Don’t you think you arrived kind of early, Y/N?” He checked the clock on his wrist. “It’s just 10:30”

“I don’t know” you said, shrugging. “I thought we were supposed to arrive at 10:00, plus, it’s not like I had anything better to do. What about you?”

“I thought Bill or Beverly would be here by now” Mike smiled. “Guess I didn’t have anything to do either” he playfully punched you in the arm. You laughed, pushing him to the side. “Shut it, home-schooled” you teased.

“You better keep it fucking PG-13, guys!” Richie shouted, hopping off of his bike and making his way to were the two of you were. “If you don’t wanna see, just take your fucking glasses off” you said, puckering up your lips and pretending to kiss Mike. He placed his hand on his forehead, just like a maiden would.

“And listen to the unholy noises? No thanks”

The three of you sat down and talked, the rest of the losers arriving one by one. You all waited until the last one arrived to swim. Beverly was the first one to jump, she always was, followed by Bill and Ben. Richie and Eddie started their usual banter, fighting over something probably stupid, you and Stan had stopped listening for a while now.

Once the eight of you were splashing around, the real fun had started. This was the best part of the day, were everyone would laugh and forget about their problems and pretended to be normal teens. “You’re going down Richie!” Beverly laughed, pushing Richie and trying to get him to fall from Bill’s shoulders. “You sure about that, Beaverly?” He flashed her a playful smile as he pushed her back. “We’ll show them, right, Ben?” She said, looking down at him. “Got that right”

You laughed, resting your arm on Stan’s shoulder. “Whoever wins goes against me and Stan!” You shouted at the other four. “No way, I am not doing that” he said taking your hand off of him and rolling his eyes. “C’mon, Stan! You are being lame, I bet she’ll let you be on top” Richie shouted.

“Beep Beep, Richie!”

After a while of playing, everyone decided to dry off. Eddie wrapped himself in a towel, shivering. “Y-You okay, E-Eds?” Bill asked.

“I don’t want to get a cold because if I do, my—“

“Your mom won’t have more time for me, guess I’ll have to sneak at night so we can—“

“We get the picture, Richie” Mike sighed.

Richie raised his hands in a defeated manner.

“Escaping to see Mrs. K after curfew? Man, that must be true love” Beverly said, taking out a cigarette from her backpack’s front pocket.

“The curfew can suck my dick, it’s not like it works anyway” he shrugged. “That fucking clown takes kids whenever the fuck he wants so... what’s the point?”

“Do you think it will ever stop?” You interrupted, looking down.

“W-What?”

“Pennywise. If we don’t stop him... do you think it’ll stop?” You continued. Richie let out a rather bitter laugh, fixed his glasses and looked at you. “We’ll be dead before that happens, sweetheart, I—“

“I’m being serious, Richie!” You frowned at him. “Listen, I enjoy being haunted by a fucking clown as much as the next person does but do you truly think we will stop him?! Don’t you think we need at least someone to help us?!”

“Who?” Stan sighed. “Who in their right state of mind would help us defeat this—this monster?!”

“Stan is right... Even if he got someone’s attention, what would be our proof? Nobody but us can see IT” Ben said quietly. “It’s like the blood in Beverly’s bathroom...”

“We are helpless” Eddie muttered.

You looked around, the happy faces had been wiped out from their faces. You were just a bunch of kids being attacked by something you didn’t quite understand... but you knew some people who maybe could understand, maybe. “I need to show you guys something”

Hoping on your bikes, they followed you all the way home. You trusted them with your life but even with this kind of information, you weren’t sure if it was a good idea to share it. You weren’t supposed to know and yet, you were making your way home to show your friends all of it.

You unlocked the door and ran upstairs, to your room, everyone else followed close behind and closed the door behind them once everyone was inside. “Did I ever mentioned that my parents were scientists?” You asked.

“I think you did once” Mike said.

“Is that why you are such a nerd?” Richie asked, looking around. You had posters of every sci-fi movie you could imagine, shelves filled with books and action figures. “That’s not the point”

“Why are you asking us this?” Beverly looked at you.

Ignoring her question, you asked another. “Ben, in the research you did about Derry... did you find anything about a laboratory research? Anything related with that?”

“No, not really... why?”

You walked over to your bed and started pulling the mattress. You pushed it to the side, unveiling a couple of folders hiding underneath. You handed it to him. “My parents take part in a project, an investigation about a neighbor dimension. The documents explains how they opened the “gate” between that world and ours—“

Eddie turned to look at Stan and then at Bill, blinking rapidly. “You know that this isn’t fun, right?”

“What?” You asked, confused

“You can stop pretending now. Richie and you got us, all of us. You’ve got poor taste in pranks, you know? This is something serious and—“

“Are you serious?! You think this is a joke?”

“It might as well be” Stan looked at you, unsure of what to believe. “This is bullshit”

“But it’s not!” You defended yourself.

“You’re giving me way too much credit, guys, but I don’t take part in this” Richie said.

“And this, this portal?, what does it have to do with us?” Beverly said, scooting over Ben’s side to have a better look.

“You believe that shit?!” Eddie exclaimed.

“I-I don’t understand either, Y/N...” Bill looked at you, biting the side of his cheek. 

“Look, here” you said pointing at a certain paragraph. “It talks about how that other world is inhabited by an unknown species”

“So?”

“So, naturally, people crossed the gate to investigate and do research. All of the expedition members went missing and were eventually found dead, parts of their bodies had been eaten by, probably, a pack of the species.” Ben gulped loudly, opening his mouth to say something but in the end, nothing came out. “But Pennywise has been feeding itself from Derry’s population for centuries… “

“Maybe the gate has always been open” Bev bit her lip, trying to find a proper way to put her thoughts together. “Maybe they just found a way for us to cross to the other side but these creatures have always been able to cross from theirs”

“Exactly but that’s not all” you handed them another folder, it was full of pictures and newspaper articles. “There was this kid, William Byers, who was taken by one of these creatures” she said pointing at the picture of him, “and he made it out alive… “

“But that doesn’t mean Pennywise is related to this” Mike said, breathing heavily. “What makes you so sure this could be related to us? This project was held in Hawkins, Indiana… Five or six states away from us”

“I don’t think this dimensions would limit itself to just Indiana, if it’s a world just like ours there must be a place just like Derry” your hands rested on your hips. “Plus, do you have a better theory? All we know about IT is the fact that he comes out to eat children every 27 years.”

“You’ve lost your fucking mind, haven’t you?” Richie said, pinching his nose anxiously. “Bill you better take notes, none of the stories you’ve created can compete with this kind of bullshit”

“She has a point” Beverly defended. “What do you have, Richie?”

“Common sense, clearly! Even if I decided to believe this mental story, what would we do? Drive all the way to fucking Indiana and then what?! We’ll ask your parents to help us kill this clown? Fucking great! Sign me the fuck in!”

“G-Georgie could be there” Bill said. “Betty R-Ripsom, Ed… everyone c-c-could be trapped in there and maybe we can save them!”

“I don’t want to save them!” Stan shouted, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “It’s suicide! “

“I’d rather kill myself trying to save them than doing nothing and let it kill me from the inside” you growled.

“That’s you! What makes you think we want to get involved! I didn’t ask for this---“ Eddie responded, stopping to take deep breaths. He took out his inhaler and shook it, later putting it inside his mouth and breathing in the medicine.

“None of us did!” Beverly spat out. “But if we can do something about this, we should!”

“Nobody of us want this, Y/N” Ben whispered.

“I get that all of you are terrified! So am I! But if we find a way of killing this thing one and for all, we might get a shot of living normal lives! We might get our fucking boring lives back, we would no longer have to worry about getting killed by IT! We wouldn’t have to watch our backs when we’re walking alone down the street!” you sighed. “I want my life back”

Before you could continue, an alarm went off. It came from Eddie’s clock, making all of you jump in surprise. “What time is it?” Ben asked, looking at Eddie.

“6:30” he said, popping one of the pills in his fanny pack inside his mouth. “I should get going…”

“Yeah, the curfew starts in 30 minutes and I---“Stan walked towards the door. “Why don’t you stay the night? We can forget about this…” you said pointing at the documents. “We can forget about it for the night and talk about it tomorrow. You don’t have to take a part of this, I just thought you… you would be interested and maybe we could find a way of killing IT”

Stan, Eddie and Richie looked at each other. Sighing. You were sure that Bill and Beverly were with you, maybe Mike and Ben too but the eight of you had to be together to actually make a change, that was a fact. “I’ll say I’m staying at Bill’s” Eddie said. “That way my mom won’t worry that much”

“We’ll stay” Beverly placed her hand on your shoulder and hugged you. “Don’t worry” You rested your forehead on her shoulder and sighed. “I’m sorry for putting all of this weight on your shoulders”

“Now, that’s enough” the redhead said, pulling away and ruffling your hair. “It’s already late enough, we should rest… all this fighting is making me hungry. What about you guys?”

“Finally! I was waiting for someone to say something about food” Richie said, smiling, with an attitude completely different from the one minutes before. “Aren’t you hungry, Eddie Spaghetti?”

“Stop it, Richie”

“We could order some pizza” Ben said, handing back to you the set of documents. “or something, do you think they'll deliver it this late?” he asked Mike, who just shrugged.

You sighed and put the documents back in their hiding place. Everyone was pretending to be happy again, you knew that because you were part of this act but it was alright, it had been enough for today. You would talk about it in the morning ad even though you didn’t have the best feeling about the whole situation, you had hope and you all needed that more than anything now.